Starva Wazzoo Kitty (ca. 1995-2009)

Yesterday was quite a traumatic day for me, good readers. As I returned from the library, where I blog, tweet, and network, I walked in to my house to see our oldest cat, Starva, laying half-on/half-off the dog bed in the living room. I called out, "Hi, Starva!", as I realized that something didn't look quite right. She'd never taken a position like that before, and her fur looked kinda matted, and it didn't look like she was even breathing... I felt her, and she was dead.
I immediately called my estranged wife, the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead, to give her the awful news. She's had Starva since the mid 90's; this little kitty was always there as long as I'd known my wife. She was devastated.
I let one of our other cats, Missy Cleopatra, who's known Starva for three years and had gotten as close to friends as starva would allow (she was a pretty aloof cat), and Missy looked curiously, and sniffed around . It looked like Missy was trying to feel for Starva's breath. There seemed to be a moment of understanding, as Missy slowly walked away.
There was no other choice, being the animal lover that I am, and absolutely devoted to my pets, but to bury her, and conduct somewhat of a funeral. I dug the grave (boy am I outta shape!), I wrapped her in a towel, and I enclosed a paper containing her full name, and a note that I appreciated having her in my life, and that her mommy loved her, and missed her a lot. I also placed two cat toys with her to play with in the great beyond. then, I finished with a prayer thanking God for the joy Starva gave us, and protection over my other pets, and she was buried. I tried to give her as much reverence and love as I could.
A combination of the exertion of digging a grave and the trauma and stress of finding her body and loss of a treasured pet left me drained. I slept all afternoon! I thought about feeding her, and listening to her meows, and I felt sad. The house seems a little bit emptier now.
One of the things that struck me about the whole incident is when I carried her little towel-wrapped body over to the gravesite. I cradled her head and tried to be as loving as I could. Her little face didn't quite look peaceful, but looked a bit in pain. There was some blood and tufts of fur laying about, but there was no mutilation. I don't think the dog actually killed the cat per se, I believe it was just a dog/cat fight--one of many--but her 14 year-old heart just couldn't take it.
So good-bye, Starva... you were an awesome little cat, and thanks for all the joy you've brought us over the years.
(The irony of this picture is that she's pictured on the dog bed that I her body on...)